I had teased my vajra brother Daniel when he used his Lonely Planet Tibetan phrasebook to speak to Lama Shenpen at the Red Vajrasattva drubchen last summer, saying that he was biting off more than he could chew. But within a week he had become Lama Shenpen’s zhabchi (attendant), spending most of his waking hours trading vocabulary with this remarkable young lama from Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, bringing him meals, and sitting with him in his practice sessions.
After the drubchen, Lama Shenpen began a three-month retreat for the removal of obstacles and asked that five sangha members be present at his morning and evening practice sessions. I was one of the five.
We soon began a crash course with Lama Shenpen. He didn’t want us just to do puja with him; he wanted us to learn it inside out. The melodies, sections involving musical instruments, torma making, and the text order for practice were all on the “syllabus.” And he taught us in the style of his own teacher, Khenpo Jigme Puntsok—with great intensity. He told us again and again (with Daniel as our junior translator) that he wanted us to learn the practice as it was done at Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet. He insisted that we be precise, so that even without his guidance we could perform the practice without error.
He led the practice sessions with exuberance, laughing when we were foolish, smiling when we were on the mark, scolding when we behaved inappropriately—displaying all the faces of human emotions and all the faces of the deity. It was obvious to us that we were not dealing with an ordinary man. When his wrath manifested, it put all of our capabilities and our emotional stability to the test. When his joy manifested, we rejoiced with great relief. But all of his faces were expressions through which he conferred his unique and profound blessings. He had tremendous energy and wasted none of it. Some of us were overwhelmed by his intensity, some touched by his extraordinary sweetness, but there was not one of us who was not moved by his powerful presence, his practice, and his character.
By the end of the second month I had became one of Lama Shenpen’s attendants and his (very poor) translator. I bought my own copy of the Lonely Planet and started to brush up on my Tibetan. At morning puja it was just the two of us, me on the cym- bals as umzé and Lama Shenpen assaulting the drums with his charac- teristic fervor.
On the last morning of the retreat we offered a final puja outside on the roof. The sky was clear and the sense of having achieved something was very real for all of us. After the sun had risen and the last offerings had been made, Lama Shenpen pointed to the sky. On either side of the sun, wispy clouds caught its rays and refracted them into rainbow light. He told us in heavily accented English that this was “verrrry goood!” He smiled and had his breakfast on the roof, sitting under the signs of accomplishment. That afternoon, during the final tsok in the shrine room, with most of the residents of Rigdzin Ling attending, Lama Shenpen offered an oral transmission of the text we had practiced during the three-month retreat.
He later reminded me that what he was working to accomplish through Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, what we were working to accomplish through the Chagdud Gonpa Foundation centers in the United States, and what our teacher, Chagdud Rinpoche, was working to accomplish through his activities in Brazil was the enlightened intent of Chagdud Sherab Gyaltsen—the twelfth-century founder of Chagdud Gonpa. This enlightened intent, no different from that of Guru Rinpoche himself, was still unfolding, spreading across many centuries and continents. Everything we did to help carry it out contributed to the goal of bringing dharma to all suffering beings.
A few days after the retreat had ended, some of us took Lama Shenpen to the top of Weaver Bally, the tallest mountain in the area, where we shared a meal and made offerings. Lama Shenpen was aglow. He gazed around at the largely uninhabited valleys below us and the mountain ranges in the distance, and said that this was very much how things looked in Tibet, and there, at 7,000 feet, we were at home with him.
David Scharff
I had teased my vajra brother Daniel when he used his Lonely Planet Tibetan phrasebook to speak to Lama Shenpen at the Red Vajrasattva drubchen last summer, saying that he was biting off more than he could chew. But within a week he had become Lama Shenpen’s zhabchi (attendant), spending most of his waking hours trading vocabulary with this remarkable young lama from Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, bringing him meals, and sitting with him in his practice sessions.
After the drubchen, Lama Shenpen began a three-month retreat for the removal of obstacles and asked that five sangha members be present at his morning and evening practice sessions. I was one of the five.
We soon began a crash course with Lama Shenpen. He didn’t want us just to do puja with him; he wanted us to learn it inside out. The melodies, sections involving musical instruments, torma making, and the text order for practice were all on the “syllabus.” And he taught us in the style of his own teacher, Khenpo Jigme Puntsok—with great intensity. He told us again and again (with Daniel as our junior translator) that he wanted us to learn the practice as it was done at Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet. He insisted that we be precise, so that even without his guidance we could perform the practice without error.
He led the practice sessions with exuberance, laughing when we were foolish, smiling when we were on the mark, scolding when we behaved inappropriately—displaying all the faces of human emotions and all the faces of the deity. It was obvious to us that we were not dealing with an ordinary man. When his wrath manifested, it put all of our capabilities and our emotional stability to the test. When his joy manifested, we rejoiced with great relief. But all of his faces were expressions through which he conferred his unique and profound blessings. He had tremendous energy and wasted none of it. Some of us were overwhelmed by his intensity, some touched by his extraordinary sweetness, but there was not one of us who was not moved by his powerful presence, his practice, and his character.
By the end of the second month I had became one of Lama Shenpen’s attendants and his (very poor) translator. I bought my own copy of the Lonely Planet and started to brush up on my Tibetan. At morning puja it was just the two of us, me on the cym- bals as umzé and Lama Shenpen assaulting the drums with his charac- teristic fervor.
On the last morning of the retreat we offered a final puja outside on the roof. The sky was clear and the sense of having achieved something was very real for all of us. After the sun had risen and the last offerings had been made, Lama Shenpen pointed to the sky. On either side of the sun, wispy clouds caught its rays and refracted them into rainbow light. He told us in heavily accented English that this was “verrrry goood!” He smiled and had his breakfast on the roof, sitting under the signs of accomplishment. That afternoon, during the final tsok in the shrine room, with most of the residents of Rigdzin Ling attending, Lama Shenpen offered an oral transmission of the text we had practiced during the three-month retreat.
He later reminded me that what he was working to accomplish through Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, what we were working to accomplish through the Chagdud Gonpa Foundation centers in the United States, and what our teacher, Chagdud Rinpoche, was working to accomplish through his activities in Brazil was the enlightened intent of Chagdud Sherab Gyaltsen—the twelfth-century founder of Chagdud Gonpa. This enlightened intent, no different from that of Guru Rinpoche himself, was still unfolding, spreading across many centuries and continents. Everything we did to help carry it out contributed to the goal of bringing dharma to all suffering beings.
A few days after the retreat had ended, some of us took Lama Shenpen to the top of Weaver Bally, the tallest mountain in the area, where we shared a meal and made offerings. Lama Shenpen was aglow. He gazed around at the largely uninhabited valleys below us and the mountain ranges in the distance, and said that this was very much how things looked in Tibet, and there, at 7,000 feet, we were at home with him.
David Scharff
I had teased my vajra brother Daniel when he used his Lonely Planet Tibetan phrasebook to speak to Lama Shenpen at the Red Vajrasattva drubchen last summer, saying that he was biting off more than he could chew. But within a week he had become Lama Shenpen’s zhabchi (attendant), spending most of his waking hours trading vocabulary with this remarkable young lama from Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, bringing him meals, and sitting with him in his practice sessions.
After the drubchen, Lama Shenpen began a three-month retreat for the removal of obstacles and asked that five sangha members be present at his morning and evening practice sessions. I was one of the five.
We soon began a crash course with Lama Shenpen. He didn’t want us just to do puja with him; he wanted us to learn it inside out. The melodies, sections involving musical instruments, torma making, and the text order for practice were all on the “syllabus.” And he taught us in the style of his own teacher, Khenpo Jigme Puntsok—with great intensity. He told us again and again (with Daniel as our junior translator) that he wanted us to learn the practice as it was done at Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet. He insisted that we be precise, so that even without his guidance we could perform the practice without error.
He led the practice sessions with exuberance, laughing when we were foolish, smiling when we were on the mark, scolding when we behaved inappropriately—displaying all the faces of human emotions and all the faces of the deity. It was obvious to us that we were not dealing with an ordinary man. When his wrath manifested, it put all of our capabilities and our emotional stability to the test. When his joy manifested, we rejoiced with great relief. But all of his faces were expressions through which he conferred his unique and profound blessings. He had tremendous energy and wasted none of it. Some of us were overwhelmed by his intensity, some touched by his extraordinary sweetness, but there was not one of us who was not moved by his powerful presence, his practice, and his character.
By the end of the second month I had became one of Lama Shenpen’s attendants and his (very poor) translator. I bought my own copy of the Lonely Planet and started to brush up on my Tibetan. At morning puja it was just the two of us, me on the cym- bals as umzé and Lama Shenpen assaulting the drums with his charac- teristic fervor.
On the last morning of the retreat we offered a final puja outside on the roof. The sky was clear and the sense of having achieved something was very real for all of us. After the sun had risen and the last offerings had been made, Lama Shenpen pointed to the sky. On either side of the sun, wispy clouds caught its rays and refracted them into rainbow light. He told us in heavily accented English that this was “verrrry goood!” He smiled and had his breakfast on the roof, sitting under the signs of accomplishment. That afternoon, during the final tsok in the shrine room, with most of the residents of Rigdzin Ling attending, Lama Shenpen offered an oral transmission of the text we had practiced during the three-month retreat.
He later reminded me that what he was working to accomplish through Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, what we were working to accomplish through the Chagdud Gonpa Foundation centers in the United States, and what our teacher, Chagdud Rinpoche, was working to accomplish through his activities in Brazil was the enlightened intent of Chagdud Sherab Gyaltsen—the twelfth-century founder of Chagdud Gonpa. This enlightened intent, no different from that of Guru Rinpoche himself, was still unfolding, spreading across many centuries and continents. Everything we did to help carry it out contributed to the goal of bringing dharma to all suffering beings.
A few days after the retreat had ended, some of us took Lama Shenpen to the top of Weaver Bally, the tallest mountain in the area, where we shared a meal and made offerings. Lama Shenpen was aglow. He gazed around at the largely uninhabited valleys below us and the mountain ranges in the distance, and said that this was very much how things looked in Tibet, and there, at 7,000 feet, we were at home with him.
David Scharff
I had teased my vajra brother Daniel when he used his Lonely Planet Tibetan phrasebook to speak to Lama Shenpen at the Red Vajrasattva drubchen last summer, saying that he was biting off more than he could chew. But within a week he had become Lama Shenpen’s zhabchi (attendant), spending most of his waking hours trading vocabulary with this remarkable young lama from Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, bringing him meals, and sitting with him in his practice sessions.
After the drubchen, Lama Shenpen began a three-month retreat for the removal of obstacles and asked that five sangha members be present at his morning and evening practice sessions. I was one of the five.
We soon began a crash course with Lama Shenpen. He didn’t want us just to do puja with him; he wanted us to learn it inside out. The melodies, sections involving musical instruments, torma making, and the text order for practice were all on the “syllabus.” And he taught us in the style of his own teacher, Khenpo Jigme Puntsok—with great intensity. He told us again and again (with Daniel as our junior translator) that he wanted us to learn the practice as it was done at Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet. He insisted that we be precise, so that even without his guidance we could perform the practice without error.
He led the practice sessions with exuberance, laughing when we were foolish, smiling when we were on the mark, scolding when we behaved inappropriately—displaying all the faces of human emotions and all the faces of the deity. It was obvious to us that we were not dealing with an ordinary man. When his wrath manifested, it put all of our capabilities and our emotional stability to the test. When his joy manifested, we rejoiced with great relief. But all of his faces were expressions through which he conferred his unique and profound blessings. He had tremendous energy and wasted none of it. Some of us were overwhelmed by his intensity, some touched by his extraordinary sweetness, but there was not one of us who was not moved by his powerful presence, his practice, and his character.
By the end of the second month I had became one of Lama Shenpen’s attendants and his (very poor) translator. I bought my own copy of the Lonely Planet and started to brush up on my Tibetan. At morning puja it was just the two of us, me on the cym- bals as umzé and Lama Shenpen assaulting the drums with his charac- teristic fervor.
On the last morning of the retreat we offered a final puja outside on the roof. The sky was clear and the sense of having achieved something was very real for all of us. After the sun had risen and the last offerings had been made, Lama Shenpen pointed to the sky. On either side of the sun, wispy clouds caught its rays and refracted them into rainbow light. He told us in heavily accented English that this was “verrrry goood!” He smiled and had his breakfast on the roof, sitting under the signs of accomplishment. That afternoon, during the final tsok in the shrine room, with most of the residents of Rigdzin Ling attending, Lama Shenpen offered an oral transmission of the text we had practiced during the three-month retreat.
He later reminded me that what he was working to accomplish through Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, what we were working to accomplish through the Chagdud Gonpa Foundation centers in the United States, and what our teacher, Chagdud Rinpoche, was working to accomplish through his activities in Brazil was the enlightened intent of Chagdud Sherab Gyaltsen—the twelfth-century founder of Chagdud Gonpa. This enlightened intent, no different from that of Guru Rinpoche himself, was still unfolding, spreading across many centuries and continents. Everything we did to help carry it out contributed to the goal of bringing dharma to all suffering beings.
A few days after the retreat had ended, some of us took Lama Shenpen to the top of Weaver Bally, the tallest mountain in the area, where we shared a meal and made offerings. Lama Shenpen was aglow. He gazed around at the largely uninhabited valleys below us and the mountain ranges in the distance, and said that this was very much how things looked in Tibet, and there, at 7,000 feet, we were at home with him.
David Scharff
I had teased my vajra brother Daniel when he used his Lonely Planet Tibetan phrasebook to speak to Lama Shenpen at the Red Vajrasattva drubchen last summer, saying that he was biting off more than he could chew. But within a week he had become Lama Shenpen’s zhabchi (attendant), spending most of his waking hours trading vocabulary with this remarkable young lama from Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, bringing him meals, and sitting with him in his practice sessions.
After the drubchen, Lama Shenpen began a three-month retreat for the removal of obstacles and asked that five sangha members be present at his morning and evening practice sessions. I was one of the five.
We soon began a crash course with Lama Shenpen. He didn’t want us just to do puja with him; he wanted us to learn it inside out. The melodies, sections involving musical instruments, torma making, and the text order for practice were all on the “syllabus.” And he taught us in the style of his own teacher, Khenpo Jigme Puntsok—with great intensity. He told us again and again (with Daniel as our junior translator) that he wanted us to learn the practice as it was done at Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet. He insisted that we be precise, so that even without his guidance we could perform the practice without error.
He led the practice sessions with exuberance, laughing when we were foolish, smiling when we were on the mark, scolding when we behaved inappropriately—displaying all the faces of human emotions and all the faces of the deity. It was obvious to us that we were not dealing with an ordinary man. When his wrath manifested, it put all of our capabilities and our emotional stability to the test. When his joy manifested, we rejoiced with great relief. But all of his faces were expressions through which he conferred his unique and profound blessings. He had tremendous energy and wasted none of it. Some of us were overwhelmed by his intensity, some touched by his extraordinary sweetness, but there was not one of us who was not moved by his powerful presence, his practice, and his character.
By the end of the second month I had became one of Lama Shenpen’s attendants and his (very poor) translator. I bought my own copy of the Lonely Planet and started to brush up on my Tibetan. At morning puja it was just the two of us, me on the cym- bals as umzé and Lama Shenpen assaulting the drums with his charac- teristic fervor.
On the last morning of the retreat we offered a final puja outside on the roof. The sky was clear and the sense of having achieved something was very real for all of us. After the sun had risen and the last offerings had been made, Lama Shenpen pointed to the sky. On either side of the sun, wispy clouds caught its rays and refracted them into rainbow light. He told us in heavily accented English that this was “verrrry goood!” He smiled and had his breakfast on the roof, sitting under the signs of accomplishment. That afternoon, during the final tsok in the shrine room, with most of the residents of Rigdzin Ling attending, Lama Shenpen offered an oral transmission of the text we had practiced during the three-month retreat.
He later reminded me that what he was working to accomplish through Chagdud Gonpa, Tibet, what we were working to accomplish through the Chagdud Gonpa Foundation centers in the United States, and what our teacher, Chagdud Rinpoche, was working to accomplish through his activities in Brazil was the enlightened intent of Chagdud Sherab Gyaltsen—the twelfth-century founder of Chagdud Gonpa. This enlightened intent, no different from that of Guru Rinpoche himself, was still unfolding, spreading across many centuries and continents. Everything we did to help carry it out contributed to the goal of bringing dharma to all suffering beings.
A few days after the retreat had ended, some of us took Lama Shenpen to the top of Weaver Bally, the tallest mountain in the area, where we shared a meal and made offerings. Lama Shenpen was aglow. He gazed around at the largely uninhabited valleys below us and the mountain ranges in the distance, and said that this was very much how things looked in Tibet, and there, at 7,000 feet, we were at home with him.
David Scharff
